“There’s an apartment that comes with the job.” Lance’s voice pulled me back from my internal worry. “It’s upstairs. It’s not much, but it has a bedroom, a small kitchen and living room, and a full bathroom. There’s another apartment up there too. That’s where Jackson stays.” He gestured toward the fighter, who exited the ring and walked toward the back of the gym, heading for another room.
I hadn’t been aware of the apartment, but the unexpected bonus was exactly what I needed. I hadn’t planned on moving out of my dad’s house for a few more months, so the potential that I could do so sooner was both nerve-wracking and exciting.
“I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but can you tell me if I have a real shot at being hired?”
A flicker of emotion passed over his face, but it disappeared before I could decipher its meaning. His lips parted several times before he finally spoke. “I want to be honest with you, Sophie. Jackson is a handful, for lack of a better word. The last five therapists we hired quit after only a few days. I just want you to know that he’s not an easy client by any means. But I hope you'll have the gumption to stick it out. I believe, in time, he’ll calm down enough that you won’t have any issues working with him.”
Before my brain could filter my words, I blurted, “Do you truly believe that, or are you just desperate to fill the position?" My potential client’s less than desirable demeanor could work to my advantage. However, I had to question whether I should work so closely with someone who might give me a hard time right from the start. The uncertainty of what I was getting myself into only added to my anxiety. I had worked with athletes before, but never fighters. Which led to my next question. “Is he violent?”
“Only in the ring. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a street fight, mainly because it’s prohibited now that he’s part of the UFC roster.”
“I don’t have to worry about him hitting me, right?” My question might sound odd, but I was going to be dealing with someone who beat people for a living, his entire body a lethal weapon.
“Oh God, no.” Lance’s emphatic response alleviated my concerns about my physical safety. “Jackson would never hit a woman. He’s not that type of guy.”
“Has he ever worked with a female therapist before?”
“Two. The first one quit after an hour, and the other woman lasted for three.”
After considering my limited options, I nodded and flashed him a reserved smile. “I’d like the opportunity to work with him.”
The corners of Lance’s mouth lifted as if I’d told him he’d won the lottery. His expression alone should’ve sent me running out the door, but I remained rooted in place until he gestured toward the back room where Jackson had disappeared.
“Why don’t you go back and introduce yourself? I have to make a quick phone call, but I’ll be right behind you.” Hesitancy stole my first step forward. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. That I know of.”
His laughter trailed behind him as he left me to confront a man who I was sure was going to change my life.
In what way was still yet to be determined.
2
I clutched my purse as I walked across the expansive room, nodding at the two men who glanced in my direction. The man who Jackson had fought draped his arms over the top rope for support, his blond hair matted to his forehead.
I tried not to let Lance’s warning about Jackson frazzle me as I released the air in my lungs before entering the back room. I’d only taken two steps in when my legs suddenly locked up. Frozen in place with widened eyes and a thrashing pulse, I took a moment to register that I might, in fact, be in danger. I barely noticed the massage table against the nearest wall or the countless stretching bands strewn across the floor. Or even the large, corded ropes lying in the center of the space.
All I could focus on was the naked man standing twenty feet away.
Rather than retreating from the room, I was unable to tear my gaze from him. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him while he was in the ring because we were far apart, but now he was close. Too close.
He was a striking figure, a perfect male specimen, and I couldn’t help but stare. He stood close to six feet tall withbroad shoulders, every fine inch of him seemingly sculpted from marble. It was clear he didn’t possess an ounce of fat. Multiple tattoos covered his left arm, and as my gaze traveled downward from his tapered waist and below, I scolded myself once more for not averting my eyes. I never imagined I’d see my newest client in the buff, but there he was, in all his glory.
Wait… whyishe naked?
Finally, I dropped my head and stared at my feet, having no idea where else to look. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until there was movement in my peripheral. My lungs expelled the air as confusion muddled my brain. After several strides, Jackson stood in front of me, the heat from his body igniting mine.
“That’s an interesting choice of outfit.” The rough tone of his voice put me on edge as if I wasn’t already on high alert. “But it doesn’t matter because soon enough you’ll be naked.”
My head popped up, momentarily ignoring the confusion of why he found my black dress pants and cream silk blouse to be an “interesting choice of outfit.” Instead, my focus zeroed in on the alarming statement of me being naked soon enough. He took another step forward, so close I could see the golden flecks around his dark brown irises and the scar that ran from the outer corner of his eye before disappearing into his hair line near the top of his ear. There was also a small bump on the bridge of his nose.
His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, droplets cascading down his face and between his defined pectorals.
A tousled mess of dark waves adorned the top of his head, various strands sticking up in unruly sections. A shadow of stubble graced his chiseled jawline while specks of blood scattered on his cheeks. And even though I didn’t want to notice his lips, I couldn’t help but appreciate the plumpness of them.
He had all the qualities of a stereotypical handsome man, but there was also a fierceness to his features. Rugged and captivating. I sensed danger surrounded him, a feeling my gut screamed I should take seriously.
I kept my eyes pinned to his, parting my lips to speak, but all that escaped my mouth was a puff of air. My thoughts were jumbled, and I blamed my uneasiness on his proximity. He unnerved me, yet my body refused to retreat. There would be no fighting or fleeing on my part; instead, I was frozen in place, an unlucky default choice.
Before I registered his movement, he grabbed a fistful of my blouse and yanked it from the waistband of my pants.
